


Lost and then Found - The Extras

by Gerec



Series: Lost and then Found [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amnesia, Angst, Charles is a Professor, Divorce, Erik is a Cop, First Meetings, M/M, Moving On, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extra scenes and outtakes from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1339894/chapters/2792626">Lost and then Found</a> aka Amnesia Fic. </p><p>1: Pre-amnesia Erik finds out about Charles’ one night stand with his partner.<br/>2: The first time Charles meets Steve Rogers.<br/>3: Steve and Charles go on their fourth date and Charles tries something new.<br/>4. <b>*NEW*</b> Charles and Erik go for coffee. Scene follows immediately after the epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Night Stand

**Author's Note:**

> It turns out that I’m not quite done with this ’verse yet! I’ll post all new one-shots here, as well as the older ones that I previously posted in my tumblr ficlets collection.

Charles has just put the last of his files and papers into a box when he hears the lock turn and the front door open, followed by the sound of keys being tossed on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t expected to run into Erik tonight -  _he’s not ready for it_  - given the late hours that his ex usually works, and his heart is beating as fast as a burglar caught mid-heist.

It would almost be funny, Charles muses, if he wasn’t currently in his own home. 

Not that it’s Charles’ now, technically, since he signed the condo over to Erik as part of the divorce. Though he still has his key - something he’s yet to give back to Erik - and tonight would serve as good a time as any for its return.

He picks up the files and leaves the almost bare office, making his way quietly into the living room. Erik is putting fresh coffee in the fancy machine Charles bought him for their last wedding anniversary, scrubbing his hands tiredly over his face and through his hair. He seems genuinely startled when he turns to find Charles standing just a few feet away, and for a moment the expression on Erik’s face is as raw and wounded as Charles feels. 

But the moment doesn’t last, and Erik’s mask falls into place again.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Charles sighs, and tries very hard to keep his voice level. “I left you a voicemail, Erik. I told you I needed to come and grab the last of my things. You didn’t call or text me back so I assumed it was fine.”

“It  _is_ fine,” Erik answers, and he at least has the decency to look at little chagrined for ignoring Charles’ call. “I’m sorry, I was busy and then I just forgot– ” 

“Save it,” Charles snaps, and oh this is not what he wants at all. He didn’t come here to fight; doesn’t want to fight with Erik over the same things, over and over again. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Not anymore.”

Erik grits his teeth, and it’s obvious that he’s trying to keep his response to Charles’ dig as neutral as possible. “I know that…do you need any help?”

“No, this is it,” he answers, all the pent-up anger deflating at the way Erik doesn’t quite look at him as he speaks, as though he can’t wait for Charles to leave. “Here’s your key.”

Charles drops the box onto the island and fishes the key from his jacket pocket. He slides it across the marble countertop towards Erik on the other side, who stands there staring at the key like it’s a snake coiling to strike. 

“You don’t…you can keep it,” Erik says, and his voice is so soft that it’s barely more than a whisper. “If you want.”

“Is…that what you want, Erik?” Charles asks, and he’s ashamed at the rush that surges through his gut at the possibility that… “What do  _you_ want?”

Erik is silent for what feels like an eternity, his eyes boring as they always have into Charles’ very soul. He’s so desperate for  _something_  from his ex-husband - an admission, an emotion,  _anything_  - that he almost reaches across the counter to try and shake it out of him.

“Nothing,” Erik finally says, and turns away, reaching to grab a coffee mug from the cupboard, voice going stiff and cold. “It doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want.”

And oh doesn’t he feel  _stupid_  now, thinking for even a second that Erik might have missed him at all; might have wanted Charles back as much as Charles had never stopped wanting Erik. It hurts so much that Charles wants to cry, before the humiliation and the pain morphs into an anger that’s so intense he can’t breathe.

He picks up the key and whips it across the room as hard as he can, letting the blinding rage consume him inside out. “I want you to take your fucking key back, Erik! I want to never have to see you again! I want to never have to _feel_ like this every time I’m in the same room with you! I want to move on and be happy and stop hurting so much I want to die! Fuck you, you unfeeling bastard!”

He is yelling by the time he’s through, and that at last gets a reaction from Erik, who looks stunned at Charles’ outburst. “You don’t think I  _feel_  anything? That it doesn’t  _hurt_  me, as much as it hurts you? I’m just trying to make this easier, Charles. So we can both move on, like _you_ wanted.”

Charles scoffs, his bitterness obliterating any judgement or good sense in face of Erik’s reply. “Yes I can see how difficult this whole thing has been for you. You were already gone when we were still  _married_ , Erik! And now you’re going to stand there and tell me you’re trying to make things easier! For me! Well I don’t need your help because I’m fine! I’m moving on and fucking other people and I sure as hell don’t need _you_ anymore!”

He should know, from the thunderous expression on Erik’s face that he’s pushing too hard and going too far, but Charles is so beyond caring about his ex-husband’s feelings. He grabs the box and starts heading for the front door but Erik cuts him off and knocks the files from his hands with a snarl. 

“ _You_ wanted a divorce, Charles,” Erik growls, his hand gripping Charles’ wrist, hard enough to bruise. “ _You_  served me with divorce papers, without asking me if that’s what I wanted. Now you’re accusing me of moving on when you just told me you’re already fucking somebody else.” He presses Charles back, using his whole body to pin him against the door. “Who is it?”

“No,” he answers, shoving Erik away with a snarl, “you can’t say ‘no’ to our marriage, and then be angry when I move on with somebody else! Fuck you, you hypocrite!”

“Who. Is. It.”

The name comes out of Charles’ mouth in a rush, a roiling mass of guilt and anger, along with the desire to inflict maximum damage. “Logan.”

Erik stills, dropping his arm and taking a step back from Charles. “You…Logan?”

What had been an exhilarating sense of triumph deflates faster than a popped balloon. “Yes.”

“My _partner_? Howlett?  _That_  Logan?”

Charles swallows. “Yes.”

All of it - the anger, the pain, the jealousy - the turmoil that was so clear just a moment ago on Erik’s face shutters completely, his eyes going icy cold.

“Get out of my house,” Erik orders, and there isn’t a hint of emotion left now in those steely grey eyes. “And don’t come back.”

—–

Charles makes it all the way back to the townhouse before he collapses into a heap, burying his face in his hands as he lets the tears flow. After, he grabs the most expensive whiskey in the cabinet and locks himself in his room, drinking the entire contents of the bottle in one sitting. 

He should feel worse he thinks, for what he did; for the way Erik’s face had gone from disbelief to stricken in the mere seconds before it went completely blank. Should feel bad for involving Logan in his petty attempt to make Erik bleed. He should feel a lot of things for the way he handled himself with his ex-husband; for driving an even bigger wedge between them, perhaps ending any chance of even a tenuous friendship with Erik. 

But lying here now in his bed, drunk and still wearing his crumpled suit, Charles can only feel a bitter sense of relief; a relief that at least now he knows, his relationship with Erik is finally, truly over.

 


	2. Raven's Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously Posted: The first time Charles meets Steve Rogers.

The evening is an astounding success, the early buzz almost unanimously positive for Raven’s newest collection. In a quiet corner of the room Charles watches as his sister makes the requisite rounds, greeting friends and potential buyers with seemingly boundless energy. He can’t quite hide a proud smile as he looks on – Charles was the first to support Raven’s decision to become an artist after all – but he’s really in no mood to mingle with strangers tonight.

He should have put his foot down and said no, instead of letting Raven drag him to her show.

His eyes roam through the gallery, flitting between each familiar piece before he’s drawn back again and again to the painting in the middle of the room. It’s one of the highlights of the night, and undoubtedly some of Raven’s best work to date.

It’s also a painting of his ex-husband, a striking silhouette of Erik’s unmistakable frame walking briskly in the rain.

There’s a small crowd gathered around the easel now, and he tries to imagine their conversations. Do they make up little stories about the man in the painting? Debate who he is? Guess at what he’s thinking as he wanders the New York City sidewalks late at night? 

Charles wrenches his eyes away and downs the rest of his wine, giving the waiter a halfhearted smile when he takes the empty glass from his hands. He wonders how much longer he has to stay; he’d much rather be home grading papers than being reminded of—

“I’d say another fifteen minutes,” a voice says from Charles’ right, “after Raven gives her speech. Then you can probably sneak out.”

He doesn’t bother to hide his chuckle, turning to face the man who seems to have appeared out of thin air at his side. The stranger is almost ridiculously attractive, tall, blond and muscular in a way that makes Charles stare in slightly bewildered awe. It’s been a long time since he’s felt the kind of instant connection he’s feeling now; the last time would have been Erik all those years ago in the coffee shop.

“How did you know I was planning to sneak out?” Charles asks, once he finds his voice again.

“Your body language,” the man answers, “and the fact that you keep looking at your watch every couple of minutes.”

“And how long have you been watching me, Mr.…”

“It’s Steve Rogers, but please call me Steve. I was actually looking for you…your sister told me—”

Charles groans; of course it was Raven and her relentless crusade to get him out of the house and on a date. “I’m sorry Steve but whatever my sister might have told you, I’m not interested.”

“I see,” Steve says, voice suitably apologetic though he’s still smiling warmly at Charles. “Would you still like some help sneaking out after her speech?”

The offer surprises Charles enough to make him laugh, the tension in his gut melting away as they share knowing looks at an unsuspecting Raven across the room. Steve excuses himself briefly to grab a passing waiter, returning with two glasses of wine and handing one to Charles with a soft smile.

For a split second, Charles sees the possibilities laid out clearly in front of him. He can spend the rest of the night feeling sorry for himself and missing Erik, wandering listlessly around the empty brownstone. Or he can make a new friend and see where it takes him, leaving the pain and the heartache in the past where they belong.

“Charles Xavier,” he says, taking the glass with one hand and offering the other for Steve to shake. “Would you like to join me for coffee after the show?”


	3. Taking the Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously Posted: Steve and Charles go on their fourth date and Charles tries something new.

“So…where are we going again?” he asks for the third time in an hour, eyes scanning the passing scenery for clues. They’ve been driving now for an hour and a half and Charles is still no closer to guessing their destination. Steve had given him very little information about their date, suggesting only that Charles ‘dress comfortably for the outdoors.’ 

Taking his eyes off the road for a moment Steve winks at him, the grin on his face more than a little infectious. “You’ll see.”

“You’re not kidnapping me are you?” Charles asks, laughing when Steve makes a terrible ‘I’m a scary bad man’ face. “I’m not sure Raven would pay ransom money to get me back.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not kidnapping you,” Steve says, chuckling when Charles lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “We’re just going to visit an old friend of mine.”

“Oh?”

“He’s an old Army buddy. Sam Wilson.”

Charles is intrigued; this is only their fourth date (if you count coffee the night they met as their first) and Steve has spoken very little thus far about his time in the service. He knows only that Steve has lived and witnessed some terrible things, and lost his best friend early on during his tour in Afghanistan. 

“Is he meeting us for lunch? A hike? Paintball?” Charles laughs at the last suggestion; it’s been years since he’s gone paintballing, though he’s confident he can still hit a target or two.

Steve chuckles, a devilish glint in his eye. “Not paintball. Though I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Charles rolls his eyes, settling back into the seat again with a playful huff. He’s having fun, he thinks rather suddenly, as Steve turns the radio up and starts singing along to Bruce Springsteen. He’s relaxed and not feeling sorry for himself for the first time in…what feels like forever it seems. When Charles glances at the clock he realizes he hasn’t thought about Erik once in over an _hour_ , and it’s such an unexpected shock that he starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks.

“Nothing,” Charles answers and Steve just smiles at him, turning his attention back to the road. They drive for another ten minutes in comfortable silence, before Steve directs his attention to the large sign on their left as they turn off the main road. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Charles breathes, looking back and forth between Steve, the sign and the hangar looming up ahead. “Are you really…are we going…?”

They come to a stop in front of the main entrance, pulling right into the parking space marked ‘Wilson’. Steve turns to Charles, grinning from ear to ear and says, “We’re going skydiving.”

\---

“So…do you bring all your dates here,” Charles shouts, as Steve chuckles in his ear. He clings a little harder to the arm that’s around his chest, trying to calm his racing heart as they get ready to jump. Charles is strapped to Steve in a double harness – which does make him feel much better about this whole crazy idea – and Sam is watching them both with a smile from his place by the door. 

Apparently he’s going to jump right after them, with plans to film Charles and Steve on their way down. 

“Nah, just the ones he likes a lot,” Sam answers, laughing as he pats Charles on the shoulder. “Or ones he never wants to hear from again. Either way, you’re the only one so far.”

“This will be fun,” Steve promises and Charles is inclined to believe him, even if his mouth has gone a bit dry at the thought of jumping out of a perfectly serviceable airplane. “I’ve done this dozens of times before and I’ll be with you the entire time. But you don’t have to do this Charles, if you don’t want to. You can change your mind right now and we’ll call this off. It’s your choice.”

He considers saying it, telling Steve that he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want to jump after all. Charles has spent the last year and half so desperate to maintain control, wrapping his emotions around himself like steel bands. The idea of letting it all go – literally and figuratively - scares him half to death, even for the few short minutes it’ll take to get back on solid ground. 

“No.” He means to squash his own misgivings, not realizing he’s said it out loud until he feels Steve shifting his weight behind him. “I mean yes! I want to jump. I do.”

“Charles—”

“Steve, please,” he interrupts, giving Steve’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I want to jump. Really. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?” Steve asks, as the door slides open and they move into position.

The view is incredible, nothing but blue sky and earth in greens and browns. Standing here on the precipice, Charles can see an entire world of possibilities laid out at his feet. He just has to _want_ it, and then step over the edge into something exhilarating and new.

He’s telling Steve the honest truth when he answers. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Steve takes his hand.

They jump.


	4. The Coffee Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik go for coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately following the epilogue at the art gallery.

Somehow, Charles manages to make his way down the gallery stairs and out the glass doors without incident, still thoroughly distracted by Erik’s sudden reappearance in his life. His heart is racing fast and he knows he’s grinning like a fool, the two of them walking side by side as they make their way towards the closest café down the block.

They maneuver the busy sidewalk in comfortable silence, the elation from their surprise reunion putting a little spring in both their steps. The energy between them is nearly palpable, the air thick with excitement and anticipation, so reminiscent of their first date together, almost an entire life time ago.

“The usual?” Erik asks, as they wander into the coffee shop, his gaze intent on Charles’ face. No one else has ever looked at him in quite the same way; as though Charles’ eyes hid the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Erik’s attention - so focused and intense - has always made him feel like the only person in the world that mattered.

Charles didn’t even realize how much he’d missed it until this very moment.

“Please,” he answers, stifling the urge to say something stupid like ‘you remembered’ to a smiling Erik. “I’ll just go grab us a table, yes?”

He turns a little abruptly, leaving Erik in line to place their orders, eager to put a little distance between them so he can catch his breath. A couple in the quiet corner by the window gets up just as Charles approaches; a stroke of luck adding to the pleasing turn of events from what had been a pleasant, if unremarkable evening.

Trying - and likely failing - to be discreet, he lets his eyes stray eagerly towards Erik at the counter, taking in that sharp and handsome profile he knows so well. Erik’s hair is a little longer than before, and he looks so much better now, less gaunt and haunted than Charles remembers, a welcome return to health since their last meeting. It feels like he’s seeing Erik again for the very first time, and he can’t help but wonder if Erik is feeling just a little of the same thrill and trepidation too.

“Latte for you, expresso for me,” Erik presents, setting the cups down with a tiny flourish before taking his seat. They grin at each other like a couple of excitable teenagers, locking eyes as they each take a slow sip of their drink.

“Good?”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

Now that Erik is sitting in front of him, Charles has no idea where to begin; he wants to know _everything_ that’s happened with Erik in the past eighteen months; what he’s been doing and the places he’s visited, and what prompted his return to New York.

“I can’t believe--”

“You look great—“

They both laugh, and Charles waves his hand. “You go first.”

Erik smiles. “I was going to say that you look really great, Charles. It’s good to see you.”

“You look _so_ good, Erik,” Charles replies, reaching across the table and squeezing Erik’s hand. “You’ve got your color back, and you look…happy, and I’m just…I’m so glad to see you.”

Erik flips his palm over and laces their fingers together, a gesture so familiar neither of them realize they’re holding hands for a few long, unhurried seconds. But then Erik pulls away, a chagrined look on his face and says, “There’s so much I want to tell you, Charles. I just…I don’t know where to begin.”

“Anything,” Charles says, “whatever comes to mind; I want to know everything.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, but then a grin splits widely across Erik’s face. “The coffee maker. I remembered the coffee maker.”

Charles wracks his brain for the reference but can’t seem to make the connection. “Coffee maker? What are you talking about, what coffee maker?”

“I’ve been getting some of my memories back,” Erik explains, as Charles throat tightens, his heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of all that hurt and despair from their time apart being resurrected. “Not much; just bits and pieces, really. But I remembered telling you I wanted to get a new coffee maker to replace the old one—”

“You researched it for _weeks_ , before deciding on one that was _exactly_ what you wanted--”

“—and you surprised me with it for our anniversary, before I could get it myself. We spent the entire day trying out all the different types of coffee we could make until we were both buzzed out of our minds on caffeine.”

They had made love that night in every room in the condo, until they collapsed on to the bed hours later still too wired to sleep. Erik had produced a handful of glossy travel pamphlets from the drawer in his nightstand, and the two of them had gone through every single one, planning the trip they would take together as soon as Charles finished getting his PhD.

And then things had slowly unraveled over the course of weeks and months, ending all chances for that long awaited vacation along with the rest of their hopes and dreams.

Some of Charles’ thoughts must be showing on his face because Erik takes his hand again, expression soft and reassuring. “It was a good memory, and I’m glad I got it back. But good or bad, it’s all in the past, Charles. And that’s where it should stay.”

He lets the words sink in slowly; lets the nervous, hopeful look on Erik’s face pull him back to the present. It hadn’t been easy, letting go and moving on, but if Charles is ever going to have Erik close again – as a friend, or anything more – he’ll have to get to know the man he is _now_ , and lay the ghost of their old relationship to rest.

Charles smiles, and squeezes Erik’s hand. “Tell me about Edie,” he says. “When did you say she was coming home?”


End file.
